


Days off Are Better Spent Reminiscing

by Eggsyobsessed



Series: Kingsman Collection of Promtps [4]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Amputee Merlin, Banter, Dart Board, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Merlahad, Fluff, M/M, Nostalgia, Old Married Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:34:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23434009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eggsyobsessed/pseuds/Eggsyobsessed
Summary: It's their one day off together and Merlin has every intention not to leave the house, and do NOTHING. Harry has other plans that leaves Merlin exasperated, until he's not.Turns out Merlin's husband is a sentimental old fool.
Relationships: Harry Hart | Galahad/Merlin
Series: Kingsman Collection of Promtps [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1662037
Comments: 22
Kudos: 44





	Days off Are Better Spent Reminiscing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [qglas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/qglas/gifts).



> The prompt I received from Qglas was: Merlahad, nostalgia, and dart board.  
> This is what I came up with and I hope it fits the bill.
> 
> Not beta read, so excuse the mistakes. I hope you all enjoy!!!

“Come on, Harry.” Merlin bemoaned, Harry’s hands around his eyes. He could barely navigate where to put his cane, let alone where to put his feet. “Don’t ye think we are a little old for these games?” Merlin could almost feel the snicker Harry surely gave from behind.

“Just a few more steps, darling,” Harry promised.

Merlin huffed an exasperated breath through his nose. “When I fall you can pick me up,” he snapped, a wee bit irritated.

It was their bloody day off. Why Harry brought them to HQ was beyond him. He had visions of a nice warm bath, a bottle of that Merlot he had chilled in the fridge and some take-out Italian because he didn’t fucking feel like cooking. Not that Merlin handled that anyway. That was the sort of thing he left Harry to do. It was, after all, one of the few activities he enjoyed outside of the agency; he really needed to find that man a hobby besides day drinking. Okay, so Merlin enjoyed that sometimes too, but Christ!

He wanted to pretend, for one bloody day, that they were not old men still living, breathing and basically shitting Kingsman. Merlin just wanted ONE day where they could putter about the flat, slipper footed and do nothing. That wasn’t such an unattainable dream; Merlin didn’t think so anyway.

Harry’s lips pressed against his nape, distracting him from the mental strop he had. “You know I wouldn’t let anything happen to you,” he responded tenderly.

Merlin snorted. It was half-hearted because Harry honestly wouldn’t let anything happen to Merlin. But it still didn’t take away the fact he hadn’t a grip on the new prosthetics R&D had designed for him, finally worn out the original pair - almost a decade later - and they had come through with the latest and greatest. Of course he didn’t need half the weapons hidden in little compartments, but couldn’t be too safe these days.

“What ever happened to staying home, hm?” He wondered idly. “Our one day off, Harry, and I’d rather not spend it here!” Merlin grew increasingly upset with each step Harry nudged him to take.

“I promise you it will be worth it.” Somehow Merlin doubted that, but he left that sort of comment to himself. If Harry went through all of this trouble it must be important, especially since he’d basically dressed Merlin himself.

Yes. He had honestly let his sixty-sixty year old husband dress him and Merlin didn’t give a fuck. Merlin had every intention to live in his pajamas, dressing gown and tool around in his chair the whole day. So did he feel bad? Nope.

“I get a damn blowjob for this,” Merlin grumbled, like the sullen child he was. Harry indulged in a soft, sweep of lips just below his ear, pulling a slow, yet reluctant, smile from Merlin.

“All the blowjobs for my very _patient_ husband.” Merlin could hear the sarcasm in the word.

“I am sorry I’m being a prat, but I rather hoped to do a whole bunch of nothing!”

Harry hummed an agreement. “I promise the most you’ll have done is get dressed, which I did most of the footwork, and walk this way.” Which was actually more work than he had intended. “Okay.” Harry informed him.

Finally Merlin had his sight back. They stood in the parlor, just off the library, where a billiard table was kept, a chessboard and a full stocked bar for agents and staff at Kingsman. He was confused, to say the least, as he slowly spun to face Harry. And who for all his wrinkles, and whitening hair looked completely smitten with a youthful grin.

“Harrison,” Merlin started slowly, carefully, because he felt the anger bubble up and on the verge of boiling over.

Harry held up a hand. “Now before you get your knickers in a knot, look.” He gently turned Merlin to face whatever the source of Harry’s excitement resided.

Merlin would have lost his shit right there, if Harry hadn’t ran up to the dartboard with more speed than he’d possessed since retiring from Galahad and becoming Arthur. After a moment his joy was infectious, and the grin Merlin had kept contained soon showed itself.

“I want to yell at you.” Merlin felt his face crinkle the wider his smile got. “Why on Earth are ye so bloody happy? It’s a dartboard, Harry.” The statement came out much softer than he intended. Old age had surely softened his tone, at least when it came to his harebrained husband.

“Come now, Hamish. I know that blast took out your legs, but you’re sharp as a whip yet, yes?” Merlin would have made a jab about bullets to the head and all that, but he wasn’t feeling particularly unkind. “Our first date!” Harry all but shouted when all Merlin did was stare.

It took an embarrassingly longer time than it should have to recall the drunken night - that they both referred to as their first date - after Harry’s first successful mission that Merlin had guided. He had to admit that was well over thirty years ago, fuck it was closer to forty than that. Merlin’s expression softened. Of course, how could he forget that night? He hadn’t, truly, just that the mind tended to push back things so mundane when you took on the role to guide, and see through a whole department that ensured the safety of other men and women.

“Of course I remember!” He scoffed in mock offense that his husband would question him. Merlin would admit to many things, but he refused to allow Harry the satisfaction that he’d actually remembered something over Merlin. That, and, he wasn’t exactly proud to have let something so precious slip his mind.

Harry seemed pleased. “I know this isn’t home, but it was an addition I wanted to make in this room.” His eye shifted around lovingly, a nostalgic air surrounded them. “But you and I can get shit drunk, play darts and fall asleep on that lovely sofa.” His chin cocked toward the soft, black leather couch that had made an appearance here a month ago.

It was then as Merlin stood there, his eyes passed around a room he’s been in more times he could count, that he realized Harry had tailored this room after the first pub they’d been in. The exact one that led them to where they were today. Merlin rarely wondered if he’d ended up with Harry if not for then, and he wasn’t about to start now.

Merlin shoved his earlier annoyance away, because it was clear Harry had put a lot of thought into this, and came to stand in front of his husband.

“Think you can beat me with one eye?” He raised a brow, challenging Harry, because the ponce wouldn’t turn down an opportunity to beat Merlin at darts. Or any competitive sport, game, you name it; it didn’t matter.

“I am certain I can.” His response was precisely what Merlin had expected.

He gently cupped Harry’s face, a thumb swept to trace cheekbone and leaned in for a slow, deep kiss. Merlin allowed Harry to take the back of his neck and hold him there a bit longer before he tipped away to stare at him for a long moment. Harry turned boyish under his gaze, a soft pink dusted his cheeks, made him appear a few decades younger; it was a lovely site.

“Let’s make a bet.” Merlin dropped one more delicate, chaste kiss to his lips before he navigated the bar. He made Harry a straight Gin martini and a two dram Scotch for himself, as he said, “I beat you, you let me tie you up.” It was often one of the things they used to indulge in, before each of them took on injuries no ordinary person should and grew old. “I have a few ties I’d like to use, as well.” He grinned as Harry inhaled sharply.

“And if I win?” Harry asked, a bit breathless.

“If you win I’ll let you ride me like you’re always gagging for.” Merlin rarely bottomed. He had allowed it a total of five times in their nearly four decade long relationship. “Deal?” He handed Harry his drink and took a long sip of his.

Harry held his glass to Merlin’s, the glass clinked together. “Deal.” He downed the contents of his drink.

If he kept up like that, Merlin was sure to win.

Three hours and four more drinks later, each, they ended up on the sofa, just as Harry predicted, a snore left both of them as they slept off their drunken stooper.

When Merlin woke, with what could only be groans of protest from the position he had slept in and bloody hell the headache that felt as if a hammer pounded behind Merlin’s eyes, he searched for Harry. Whom of course stood over him and blessed his soul with what smelled like a cup of coffee. He accepted the help to sit up and took the hot, life saving beverage with great gratitude and had half gone within a few sips.

“Thank you.” It hurt to speak. “How are you even upright?” The question was a wee bit stupid, because not once in their years together did he ever recall Harry with a hangover...the bloody functioning alcoholic.

“You know Gin is like water for me.” Merlin snorted. “Here. Have this.” Harry handed him two tablets, a glass of water and waited for Merlin to swallow the contents. “And this.” He held a plate of lightly buttered toast to Merlin.

He managed to swallow down a slice and a half. “Who won?” Merlin inquired after he’d had the second half of coffee gone. Which he savored more so than the first, his head didn’t feel like someone played the bongo drums anymore.

There was a moment where he thought Harry would lie, but of course there were cameras that ran twenty-four-seven, no way he’d pull one over.

“You did.” Harry handed him a sheet of paper. “We somehow kept score, though I don’t remember much after you tossed a dart into my arm.” He lifted up his sleeve, showcasing the bandage around his left bicep.

Merlin chuckled. “If it’s any consolation, I don’t remember doing that.” He gave the wound a soft kiss. “I’m sure it was an accident.”

“No. You purposely threw it at me. If I recall, something about ‘ye one eyed bastard, that was a cheap shot’ and then tossed it at me.” Merlin wished he could deny that, because it was absolutely something he’d say.

“I am sorry,” Merlin managed around a laugh; he meant the apology regardless.

“It’s okay. I forgive you.” Harry bent down to capture Merlin in a quick kiss.

Merlin smiled up at him before he swung legs over the side of the sofa and worked hard to stand; his legs ached. He should have known better than to sleep with the bloody prosthetics on, but being drunk and all it hadn’t occurred to him to worry.

“Warm bath?” Harry inquired.

“Aye.” Merlin leaned into him, and his cane for support. “Jesus we are getting old.”

Harry snorted. “You are getting old.” Merlin bumped his shoulder with his, playfully.

“Not too old to hog tie ye to the bed in a few days.”

“I look forward to it.” Harry’s voice bled with sincerity.

Merlin was looking forward to it, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Got a prompt? Want to talk? Squee? Fic? 
> 
> Come find me on tumbr: @stronglyobsessed.


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